You'll Never Corner Me, Rhett Butler, or Frighten Me
by Deep Forest Green
Summary: What if Scarlett ran away on the night Rhett tried to rape her? Will she be able to save herself and her children? May become M later on. Disclaimer: As God is my witness, I'll never own GWTW.
1. Chapter 1

Rhett shoved the wine glass into Scarlett's hands. "Drink it," he ordered roughly. Scarlett complied, the glass fumbling in her fingers as she gulped it down as quickly as possible. The wine felt cold rushing down her throat, and she shuddered.

"Good girl," said Rhett coyly, his drunken palms carressing her cheeks. "Now have another." He reached in front of her and poured another glass of wine. The smile on his face was eerily white. His dark eyes flickered with barely concealed rage and hatred.

Scarlett was cornered. There was only one thing her instinct told her to do when she was cornered, and that was to fight. She fought dirty, like an alley cat, and bit and clawed until her assailants gave up. When Rhett backed away to watch her drink the wine, she paused for a moment to judge the distance and then threw the wine glass in his face as hard as she could. Then she leapt out of her chair and ran.

"You little slut! You won't get away from me tonight!" Rhett roared behind her as he chased her blindly out of the room. Scarlett slammed the door behind her and caught a quick glance of Rhett's twisted, bloody face just as she turned around. It had bits of glass sticking out of the soft parts of his skin, and it was filled with more rage and intense physical pain than she had ever thought possible. It was even more horrible than the face of the Yankee deserter at Tara after she had shot him, with a massive red hole in his forehead covered in black gunpowder and little bits of brain matter. That was a face that could no longer hurt her. This was a face that was determined to hurt her if it was the last thing it did.

Scarlett ran barefoot out the front door and into the cold night. Once she had locked the heavy double doors behind her, she paused and leaned on them to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute, and she could hear Rhett' crazed footsteps approaching her from inside. This had been the worst day of her life. First the whole misunderstanding with Ashley and being caught by Archie in an innocent embrace, then the birthday party, and now this. She knew immediately that she could never return home to that house. She had to go away. But where to? It was the middle of the night.

Scarlett started running in the direction of the Wilkes' house. She knew it was preposterous, but she had nowhere else to go. After all, Melly couldn't turn her away, not after what she had just done for her. In all Scarlett's frantic thoughts, it never occurred to her to go back and get the kids. It was too late to turn back towards that house, and besides, Rhett had no interest in harming the children. It was Scarlett he wanted.

The cobblestones were cold and rough on Scarlett's feet, and she yelped in pain with every step she took. Picking cotton at Tara had been nothing compared to this. Tiny pebbles got lodged between her toes, and she shook them out as she ran, trying to keep out of the streetlights so that Rhett wouldn't see her. She didn't dare look back to see if he was chasing her. Perhaps he had already given up and had gone to bed to sleep off his drunkenness. But even so, she couldn't go back. She had to spend the night with Ashley and Melanie, no matter how humiliating. Pitty's house was not an option; she would never voluntarily room with Pitty again as long as she lived.

When Scarlett finally arrived at the Wilkes' house, she stood on the front porch and rang the doorbell. She stayed out of the porchlight so as not to be seen in her humiliation. She also stayed beneath the window so Melly wouldn't know it was her before she opened the door to let Scarlett in. When no one came, Scarlett looked around and dared to ring the doorbell again. They were probably asleep, because they were a boring couple and had nothing better to do. She envied them.

But it wasn't Melanie who came to the door. It was Ashley.

"Scarlett!" he exclaimed, putting his hand over his chest in a flustered way. "My goodness, you scared me out of my wits! I thought the only people who came to call at such hours were Yankee soldiers! I almost had a heart attack! What is it you need? Haven't you caused enough trouble for one day?"

"Ashley, thank God," Scarlett whispered. "You've got to let me in. Please. It's an emergency. Rhett- I can't say such things, but he's very drunk and I'm afraid he's going to hurt me. You have to let me stay here. It'll only be tonight, I promise. Then I'll take the train to Jonesboro and figure out what I'm going to do."

"Come in," said Ashley, stepping aside. He looked down and noticed her bare feet. "Oh dear, you came here without any shoes! Your feet must be terribly cut up. Here, take my slippers. I'll get you some water so you can wash your feet." He led her into the kitchen. "I always knew that Captain Butler was nothing but bad news," he said. "Well, don't worry, you won't ever have to face him again. He ought to be ashamed of himself for all he's done to you." He poured some water into a porcelain bowl and put it on the floor beneath a chair. "I think it would be best if we don't wake Melanie. She'll find out soon enough, and it will only worry her. But just know that if there's anything you need to tell me, I swear to hold it in the strictest confidence."

"Where am I to sleep?" Scarlett asked. "On the davenport downstairs?"

"No," said Ashley, shaking his head. "I would spare you such an indignity. Sleeping on davenports is for tramps, and I certainly would not put a friend and neighbor who feared for her safety in such a position. You are our guest and you shall room with Beau upstairs."

Belatedly, Scarlett remembered that Archie was sleeping somewhere in the house. The thought filled her with abject terror. She never would have come if she had remembered. If she had been afraid of facing Rhett, the prospect of facing Archie was ten times as petrifying. As Ashley began to leave the room, Scarlett grabbed his sleeve. "You've got to hide me from Archie," she whispered frantically. "He can't know that I'm here. He won't understand what happened, he'll blame it all on me." She pulled him in closer. "Ashley, Archie will kill me."

"Archie is in the cellar," Ashley whispered back. "He sleeps like a rock and doesn't wake up until nine in the morning at the earliest. I guarantee you that you will be safe. Do you think I would let an old convict murder a guest in my house?" He paused and leaned in closer. "I could take you over to Pittypat's. Just sneak you across the yard, and no one would be the wiser."

It was unspoken between them that they dared not go to the police. The police were all Yankees and Scallawags, and Rhett Butler had every one of them in his back pocket. They wouldn't press charges against their poker buddy in a million years. Besides, the Yankees were already suspicious of Ashley Wilkes for being part of the Klan raid on Shantytown in '66. And even if the Yankees were to arrest Captain Butler, on what grounds? Drunkenness? Trying to assert his rights as a married man, that's how they would see it.

Scarlett shook her head vehemently and looked at the floor. Pride was stronger than reason in her, and she said, "I won't go to Pitty's. She's just a silly, foolish old maid, and she's gossip about me to everyone in town." But the alternative was rooming with a nine-year-old boy who was so timid that he jumped at his own shadow?

"Come upstairs," Ashley said. He struck a match and lit the lamp in the middle of the kitchen table. Scarlett tried to imitate his ease and confidence as he walked up the stairs, but she walked slowly and on tiptoe, keeping her weight low and pressed against the railing because she did not know where the stairs in this house creaked.

"Here we are," said Ashley, opening the door to Beau's nursery. Beau lay fast asleep in the corner. "I'll be right back to bring you a spare mattress. And I don't think I have to tell you not to mention any of this to Beau. It would only frighten him."

"While you're at it," Scarlett whispered, "bring me a pistol. I'll put it under my pillow, just in case."

"Good thinking," Ashley whispered back. He entered slowly into Beau's room and shook his son lightly awake. "Beau, Mrs. Butler is going to be sleeping in your room tonight. Is that all right, as long as she promises not to bother you?"

Scarlett winced that Ashley felt it proper to ask his son's permission to have a guest in his room. Why, if she ever set up a guest in Wade's room, she certainly wouldn't need to ask the boy's permission, and Wade knew enough to respect that. She would do whatever she wanted, because she was the mother and she was in charge. No wonder Beau was growing into such a wuss, if his parents asked for his permission for every little thing. Not that Wade was much better on that front.

Beau rubbed his eyes groggily and nodded at his father. "Hello, Mrs. Butler," he said softly.

"Hello, Beau," said Scarlett drily. "You can go back to sleep now."

"Daddy, why can't Mrs. Butler sleep with you and Mommy?"

"Beau," said Ashley firmly, embarrassed at his son's question, "it is very important that you do not let Archie know that Mrs. Butler is here. If he asks about her, you say- " he broke off.

"I say what?"

"You say that you haven't seen her anywhere since Daddy's party and you assume she must be at home. Her home, Captain Butler's home. You understand? This won't be for long, she'll be gone by tomorrow afternoon."

"Daddy," said Beau sweetly, "has Mrs. Butler done something bad?"

"No," said Ashley softly. "Don't believe any of the rumors you hear about her. Those are spread by some very malicious people, including Archie. But they only say those things because they don't understand how hard things have been for Mrs. Butler and how hard she had to work to get to where she is. Mrs. Butler has done so much for Mommy and me, it is only fitting that we should return the favor whenever we can."

"Does this have something to do with the Yankees?" Beau asked.

"No," said Ashley. "This has to do with Mrs. Butler and her husband. And it's not our place to ask questions about the personal lives of our friends and neighbors."

"Did Wade and Ella and Bonnie come here too?" Beau asked. "I want to see them."

"Mrs. Butler's children are at home, sleeping," said Ashley. "Mrs. Butler didn't have time to bring them because it was an emergency."

Suddenly Scarlett felt a pang of guilt for leaving her children in the house. But what else was she supposed to do? It wasn't like she could hide three sniveling brats while she was being chased by a madman with glass stuck in his face.

Beau seemed to have run out of questions, and Ashley left the room to go fetch Scarlett's gun and mattress. "Beau, be a good boy and give Mrs. Butler one of your pillows," he said as he opened the door.

Beau made a face, but he reached underneath his covers and handed Scarlett his smallest, least desirable pillow. "Thank you," Scarlett said. "I doubt I'll be able to sleep anyway." She lay down on the rug to wait for Ashley to return. It was hard enough talking to one of her own children, and with someone else's it was practically impossible. Thankfully, Beau wasn't one of those children who enjoyed talking to adults, or to other children for that matter. Those were, in Scarlett's opinion, the very best kind of children: the ones who were neither seen nor heard.

It was funny. A year ago, she would have found this whole experience so romantic-running away after a horrible night with Rhett into Ashley's waiting arms, the two of them going upstairs without waking Melanie, Ashley leading her into her room... but now, she felt nothing at all. She was too exhausted to even feel terror. All she had done was traded one imminent danger for another. And her safety now depended on a nine-year-old boy's ability to keep his mouth shut in the face of a misanthropic, misogynistic ex-con with an itchy trigger finger.

Suddenly, staring up at the ceiling, she had another thought. Upon sobering up and realizing that she was gone, Rhett's first action would probably be to disappear and take her children with him. He wouldn't tell anyone where they had gone- maybe to Europe for all she knew- and then she, Scarlett, would have no way of getting her children back. Or else he would go looking for her, and Tara would be the first place he would think to look. And she was not going to let that happen.

* * *

A/N: Please review! (800th GWTW story on this site (: ) I didn't mean to make Ashley sound like such a sissy, but I know it kind of came across that way. He's actually kind of a BAMF in the book.

Not really sure where this story is going. Can't even remember if Archie was still living with the Wilkeses at this point, but wanted to add another layer of suspense to the story. I know it's pretty unlikely that Scarlett and Ashley would be this careless, but don't worry, I won't let Scarlett die.

I just really wanted to punish Rhett for what he did to Scarlett. I think his actions are really unforgivable in this scene and I hate the fact that Scarlett never got any kind of retribution. Yes, he does suffer in the end, but they really sanitized the rape scene for the movie and played down how broken Rhett had become. So here is Scarlett standing up for herself.

What will Melanie think of Scarlett's arrival under these circumstances? What will Rhett and the children do about her sudden disappearance? Will Belle Watling make an appearance? Will Mammy kick ass? Will Suellen be no help at all? Find out the answers to these and more questions in the continuation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N: Wow, I'm really thrilled about all the reviews and follows I've gotten! I've been encouraged to write this as soon as possible. This is the best initial response to any of my stories, and I now (proudly) present you with the second installment. I'll probably post a chapter every weekend, or at least I'll try. **

* * *

After Rhett Butler lost sight of his wife running down the street, he retreated groggily and reluctantly into his house to remove the shards of glass from his face.

Rhett grimaced as he pulled the painful pieces out one by one in the dim lamplight of his upstairs room reflected off the mirror. As he set them down on a handkerchief on his dresser, he dabbed off the still-flowing blood with a cotton ball. While the rest of the South was still struggling to produce enough cotton to make their clothes, Rhett had a supply in the bottom drawer of his dresser for purposes exactly like this.

Rhett was miserable. Four years now he'd been married to that woman and he hadn't been able to get her in bed since their honeymoon. He could seduce any woman he wanted- except, apparently, his wife, the mother of his child. He felt so impotent. He hadn't wanted it to come to this. He'd wanted her to be with him because she wanted to be, not because he forced her to be. But if that didn't work out, he was willing to show her what she wanted but just didn't know that she wanted. And the incident today with Ashley had been the last straw, confirming all his suspicions and fears about her continuing unfaithfulness to him in her mind.

"God damn it," he muttered. He was feeling dizzy from the blood loss and alcohol, and he sprawled himself out on the bed. He couldn't decide who had been more humiliated, Scarlett or himself. He knew she was a wild one when he married her- that's why he'd wanted her so badly, after all- but he never thought that she had it in her to just _take off_ in the middle of the night through a town where half the people wanted her head on a plate and the other half wouldn't do anything to stop them. Well, except for Melanie. Melanie and her honor, it was admirable. Melanie-

Rhett roused himself suddenly, and the remaining blood rushed from his head so quickly that he had to lie back down. Surely even Scarlett knew better than to go running to Melanie at a time like this. Even the most forgiving people had their limits, and attempted man-stealing definitely crossed that line. Anyway, Scarlett was too much of a coward to venture back there. The face of Archie staring at her, condemning her to death in his mind- no one could return to the house where such a face was present still.

Suddenly a bolt of terror shot through Rhett's drunken heart, and he jolted up again as if he had seen a ghost. Archie! That man would murder Scarlett! Even if she wasn't anywhere near the Wilkeses- which of course she wasn't- he would find her and show no mercy. Rhett had no doubt and didn't put any crime past him.

"That damned white-trash bastard thinks he has the right to pass judgment on my wife!" he exclaimed angrily to himself as he paced fumblingly around the room, thinking aloud. "Well, I'll show him. Just because he told me about her infidelity doesn't mean that he can take justice into his own hands. I didn't save Scarlett from the burning of Atlanta just so she could be shot dead by some dirty, lowlife, no-account scumbag convict. I won't allow it! And I won't allow Bonnie to grow up in the shadow of a scandal even worse than the one involving her mother and that damned Mr. Wilkes."

It was almost as if Scarlett were telepathically manipulating him.

But he wasn't going to do anything about it tonight, because that outburst had exhausted him and he fell back onto his bed once again into a deep sleep. Scarlett's philosophy had rubbed off on him: "I'll think about it tomorrow."

* * *

"Mrs. Butler, can I ask you a question?"

Scarlett looked up at the boy in surprise. "What is it, Beau?" she asked softly, though her heart was pounding at the fear of waking the troll beneath the bridge. She consciously lifted her head from her pillow slightly and moved her hand closer to Ashley's pistol. She had killed a man once and by God, she could do it again.

"Actually, it's more like something to tell you." He turned onto his side and rested his chin in his hand. "I just want you to know that I don't believe any of the bad things people say about you, and neither do my parents. We're on your side. I don't think you and Captain Butler are traitors or Scallawags or anything like that. And Daddy was a major in the army, so if he says you're loyal Confederates, it must be true. And I do like playing with Wade, even though he's a bit old for it." He swallowed. "What I'm trying to say is, we're your friends, Mrs. Butler."

"Thank you, Beau," said Scarlett tonelessly, looking up at the ceiling. "I know." Her fear of Archie eased, slightly. Nevertheless, she deepened her voice to disguise it.

"Good," said Beau. "'Cause sometimes I wonder if you'd do the same things for us that we've done for you. But then Mommy tells me about the time Daddy was away in a Yankee prison and you and Prissy had to deliver me and get me out of the city 'cause it was on fire. Mommy says it was still a good day because I was born. And she said that you saved both of our lives while risking your own. We owe you everything."

"I'm no heroine, Beau," said Scarlett in the same automatic voice. "Your mama was the real heroine that day. She's just too modest to say so."

"I just wanted to say... thanks," said Beau. "And... I'm sorry I was born when I was. If it weren't for me, you and Mommy wouldn't have been in danger."

"Don't apologize for when you were born, Beau," said Scarlett tiredly. "You can't control that."

_If you're asking whether you were worth it, the answer is no._

"I just realized something," said Beau, leaning forward in his bed. "You're my cousin's mother, which makes you my aunt. So I should get to call you Aunt Scarlett, not Mrs. Butler." He saw her startled look and gasped. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry I've offended you, Mrs. Butler. I can't believe I was so disrespectful as to call an adult by her first name without asking her permission first."

"It's all right, Beau," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just go to sleep."

* * *

"Oh, Ashley, I don't deserve how kind you've been to me," said Scarlett the next morning as they ate breakfast together upstairs. Their food was brought up on a flimsy desk, and Scarlett wolfed it down even though it was just tea, oatmeal, and biscuits. It was still dark outside, and they ate by the light of a kerosene lantern so as not to wake Archie. Melanie was still fast asleep. "You already risked your life once to protect me. I've been the cause of all this trouble for you and Melly and I wish I could make it all go away, but I can't."

"Yes, you do deserve kindness, Scarlett. Don't even speak of it, and don't let anybody ever tell you different. Did you sleep well?"

"No, of course not. Would you?"

"Under these circumstances, no, and you don't even need to phrase it as a hypothetical. I trust Beau was an agreeable roommate?"

"Oh, yes," said Scarlett. "We didn't talk much, so it went fine."

"Do you have any money for your trip? I will give you as much as you need. And consider it a gift, not a loan. I refuse to let you pay it back."

"Oh, but Ashley, you barely have enough money for yourself!" Scarlett exclaimed with a full mouth, barely holding onto her oatmeal.

"But what I have is because of you. Who knows when you will be able to return to Atlanta safely? Maybe never. Maybe when these rumors have passed and Archie is behind bars. You have opened my eyes to what a menace that man is. I feel like a fool for sheltering him, but I cannot evict him just now. I will not rest until I find evidence to put him away for good. But he's already served his sentence, and he hasn't committed any fresh crimes. And crimes against women are always hard to prove. I shall have to find evidence of premeditation, that he has the intention to harm you."

"Phooey, then it's hopeless," said Scarlett forlornly, washing down her oatmeal with a gulp of tea. "Archie isn't smart enough to plot anything, he'd kill in the heat of the moment." She sighed and looked up at him. "Ashley, why do men say they want to protect women but then make it so easy for men like Archie to roam free?"

"I don't know," he said truthfully, putting his fork down on his napkin. "I suppose it is a flaw in our notion of honor." She stared at him agog, shocked that he would admit to any flaw in the sacred code with which he had been raised. "Men can only see the darkness in other men, not in themselves. They do not see that they become corrupt when they allow themselves too much power. It is the same principle as slavery. We tell ourselves that you need us, that we are benevolent and offer the best you could possibly want. But when it is we who are ordering the lash or carrying our women upstairs while they scream for us to stop, we are blind."

For the first time, Ashley's nonsense- wasn't. It made sense because it was relevant to her specific predicament. Yes, she was like a slave- she always had been, she just hadn't had the words to express it. Of course, he wasn't speaking from personal experience- she couldn't imagine him treating Melanie the way Rhett had treated her. But he was a man nonetheless, and he knew how men thought and what they wanted.

"I won't be safe as long as I'm around men," Scarlett thought aloud, dabbing her lips. "I need to be someplace where there aren't any men, just for a little while." Suddenly she had an epiphany. "The convent! Carreen moved to a convent in Charleston, did you hear? I could hide out there until it's safe to come back!"

Ashley laughed softly. "Scarlett O'Hara at a convent? Wearing a habit, playing the part of a nun? I have trouble imagining it. Everyone from here to Charleston knows your reputation."**  
**

"Then I'll stay in a hotel."

"You know hotels won't rent rooms to unaccompanied women. And I can't think of any man both willing and able to accompany you."

"It'll only be for a short while," said Scarlett breezily. "Then I'll come back to Atlanta when I hear that the coast it clear. Rhett will probably be gone again by then, off to Europe for a year. Carreen always was more tolerable than Suellen anyway."

"What will you do if you run into Rhett's relatives in Charleston?"

Scarlett felt a big lump in her throat at that question, but she quickly swallowed it by rationalizing. "Charleston is a big city," she said, "and I'll be inside." Like being in mourning for a third time. Don't think about it, she told herself. "Besides, he's a black sheep. His father disowned him and they don't communicate anymore." Except that they did, she knew; now that his father was dead, they could do it out in the open. He had told her shortly after Ella was born.

"What about your uncles James and Andrew in Savannah? Or your maternal grandfather?"

"You know how my father's family is," said Scarlett. "They're all so senile they can barely remember their own names."

"I don't suppose that going back home would be worth the risk," said Ashley.

Home! Jonesboro! Tara! She hardly ever thought of it as home anymore, but it was; Ashley had just reminded, her. Oh, how she longed to see Will Benteen again, and ask his advice! He would know what to do. It was even worth seeing Suellen again. Maybe she could find a more secretive place to talk to him.

"Will is good friends with Alex Fontaine," Scarlett remembered. "He's been awfully helpful in making Mimosa produce again. Grandma Fontaine says he's been a godsend around there."

"Then it sounds like you would be awfully welcome, considering how you and Frank helped Tony," said Ashley.

"It's still a dump," Scarlett remarked. "It never recovered from the war like Tara did. But at least the Fontaines don't hate me like some folks do. And it's less of a dump than Fairhill or- " she stopped herself before saying "Twelve Oaks."

"Then I suppose we are decided," asked Ashley, standing up from the table. "Would you like me to wake Melly so you two can say your goodbyes? I want you to be on good terms with her."

"No," said Scarlett defensively. "I am on good terms with her. Just bring up the carriage from Pitty's house and get Uncle Peter. I don't trust any strange darky to take me to the train station, and he'd best know not to ask any questions."

"It's a shame that Mammy or I can't accompany you," said Ashley, draping her in his darkest greatcoat to disguise her form and face. "To separate a mother from her children is probably the worst thing a man can do. But I assure you, Scarlett, I will help you get custody when it is safe to come back to Atlanta. In the meantime, Melly and I will look out for your little ones."

* * *

"Mr. Wilkes," said Rhett Butler as he arrived out of breath on the front porch of the Wilkes house about an hour later. "Where is Archie?"

Rhett's appearance was haggard from his sleepless night. His slick black hair was unruly around his face and there were dark gray bags under his bloodshot eyes. A hand was tucked into his tan suit as if ready to draw a gun. Anyone with sense would have been afraid of him. Ashley mustered all his calm; after what had just happened, he prepared himself to take on anything. But now he could see the dilemma that lay before him, and he knew it wasn't a dilemma. A promise was a promise; the imperative to protect Scarlett far outweighed the imperative to not lie. As for Rhett, he thought it was awfully suspicious that Ashley was outside at this early hour, almost as if he had been expecting him.

"Archie is in the dining room, eating breakfast," said Ashley hesitantly. "Did you want to see him?"

"Ye- no," said Rhett. Christ, what _did _he want with Archie? He didn't even have a plan.

Ashley closed the door behind him. "Is this about Scar- Mrs. Butler?"

"Of course it's about Scarlett, you dimwit," said Rhett tersely, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "The man has threatened her on multiple occasions and with the rumors spreading around town about you and her, I thought maybe you could do something about it."

"Well then, at last we agree on something," said Ashley. "I have to say that you surprised me, Rhett Butler. I never thought you would show such concern for your wife's safety. Although it could be resulting from the fact that you are clearly hung over and not thinking straight."

"_You'll_ be hung over if you don't let me in there," said Rhett through clenched teeth. "I don't want my daughter growing up in a city where a man like _that _is walking free. Almost as bad as those uppity free niggers."

"I should have known this was really about your daughter and not your wife," said Ashley drily. "Why don't you just take her away like you have so many times before? Without telling her mother?" he scoffed. "But in all seriousness, I think it would be best to bide our time and not let Archie know that we're onto him. I can handle the situation. Meanwhile, you, Captain Butler, should go back home to protect your wife."

"She's not at home," said Rhett confidentially, bitterly embarrassed. "She ran away."

"And why was that? Was she afraid of facing you?"

"What do you know about that?" Rhett demanded.

"Nothing," said Ashley Wilkes, being the best liar he could. "I just assumed that an angry husband must have been the cause of her sudden departure. But I commend you for taking immediate steps to correct your grave mistake. Good day to you, sir."

"You're lying," said Rhett impulsively. "You know where she is. You saw her last night. She came to you!" It was a lucky guess, but Ashley lost his temper too soon.

"So what if she did?" Ashley retorted. "You never deserved her as a wife anyway! Your marriage was null and void from the beginning because you're sleeping with that damned whore Belle Watling and everyone knows it!"

Rhett grabbed Ashley's collar and stared haughtily into his blue eyes. "Don't you dare say anything bad about Belle in front of me," he hissed. "Now, take me to whichever the hell room Scarlett is staying in, or so help me God, I will break down your door and find her myself."

"She's gone," said Ashley smugly, trying to regain control over the situation and save face for what he had accidentally given away. "She left."

"Where to?"

"I don't know," he lied.

"I don't believe you," said Rhett. "Now, I want to know every sordid detail between what happened between the two of you tonight. Spare me nothing; I have a right to know. The battered wife running into the arms of the gentleman who has long loved her from afar... tell me, Ashley Wilkes, was it romantic?" He had been about to blackmail Ashley by threatening to tell Melanie, but then thought better of it because Melanie had so much decency and was the only woman he knew who cared more about her character than her reputation.

"It was nothing like that," said Ashley calmly. "Nor was it like that yesterday at the mill, which Scarlett tried to tell you and you refused to believe from her lips. I have no ulterior motive for telling you the truth. Scarlett regards me as her friend, as I regard her."

"Never mind," Rhett muttered, lowering his eyes. "Just keep Archie away from her. That's all I ask. If you do it, all will be forgiven."

"All right, Captain Butler," said Ashley slowly, "but you're the only one here who needs forgiveness."

"Remember, Ashley, I saved your ungrateful life after that damn stupid thing you did back in you-know-when," said Rhett as he walked away. "Don't think I can't take that back. You owe me one now, buddy."

* * *

_A/N: So Rhett is onto Scarlett and Ashley! More than he was before! Ah, Rhett and his casual racism... What a charmer, huh?_

_Thanks for reading! I'm hoping that Archie, Melanie, Mammy, and/or the kids will show up in the next chapter. Still in need of inspiration. Anything could happen. I wanted to include Melanie in this chapter, but it just didn't fit. I don't think Rhett would use the word "buddy" either, but it just seemed to fit somehow. And, as always, please review! _


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: First of all, sorry for the delay- I was sick last weekend and didn't have much spare time. Anyway, here's Chapter 3. **

* * *

The train ride to Jonesboro was the most nerve-wracking of Scarlett's life. She kept looking over her shoulder to see if Rhett was following her. She hated not being able to write beforehand to the Fontaines to tell them she would be coming. She huddled deeper into Ashley's greatcoat, trying to ignore the stares from fellow passengers who wondered why a woman would be wearing such a garment in the middle of summer. "Probably some low-class Yankee woman," she heard one old lady whisper to another.

It was just past noon when she arrived in Jonesboro. Scarlett was starving. She hadn't had a bite to eat since breakfast, and oatmeal and biscuits had never filled her up like meat and real bread. She hoped that the Fontaines would have good food, but she wasn't optimistic.

She hardly dared to stop in Jonesboro for dinner, but she had to. She barely had any money left over from the train fare. She wasn't even wearing anything that she could sell. Maybe Will Benteen would be waiting for her by the station, like he had been when Gerald died.

Instead she found Cathleen Calvert. Or more accurately, Cathleen Calvert found her. As she was waiting in line to buy fresh peaches at the store, she called behind her: "Scarlett? Is that you?"

"Cathleen!" Scarlett exclaimed in return, recognizing the vixen-eyed girl from her youth standing across the street from her with a basket of apples. She was wearing a loose-fitting bonnet that had become faded from the Georgia sun, and she looked poorer and sadder than Scarlett remembered.

"I thought you were in Atlanta!" Cathleen cried out, running to embrace Scarlett. "What are you doing here in such short notice? You should have written! You haven't been down here since your father- " She cut her sentence short, and her face fell. "Scarlett, I'm so sorry."

"Shh," said Scarlett, looking around discreetly. "Don't go round telling people that I'm here. Don't draw attention to me."

"Oh, I see, it's a surprise," whispered Cathleen conspiratorially, leaning in closer. "You're going to give Suellen and her husband a big shock when you show up at their door. What a good idea!"

"No," said Scarlett stubbornly. "I can't stay in town. I have to go to Mimosa right away."

"I could give you a ride there in my carriage," Cathleen said kindly.

"Oh, thank you so much," said Scarlett, following Cathleen into her small, rickety buggy. The paint was chipped off, but Scarlett could tell that it was the same buggy that had taken her and Cade to the ball at Twelve Oaks and had somehow managed to escape the Yankee blaze, probably by being commandeered by the Confederate army just before the Yankees came through. It barely looked better than the carriage that Rhett had stolen to get her out of Atlanta.

"I never expected to see you out shopping in Jonesboro alone," Scarlett remarked.

"Well, the war changed everything," said Cathleen sadly, lashing the reins lightly to make the horse move forward. "My husband spends all day working the land and taking care of Ma and Pa, and the darkies are all out looking for jobs and registering with the Freedmen's Bureau." She scoffed. "You're lucky to have loyal darkies like Pork and Mammy and Dilcey and Prissy. Ours are all gone up north or out west for their 'forty acres'. Like the Yankees are actually going to give it to them."

Scarlett looked across the rotted wood of the seat and noticed that Cathleen had a baby bump of about five months. So this is what it's come to, she thought, unaware of her own hypocrisy. That damned overseer has made Cathleen sink so low as to go out shopping while visibly pregnant.

"How are your children?" Cathleen asked suddenly, noting Scarlett's gaze.

Scarlett was so startled that she almost fell out of the carriage. "They're fine," she managed to say, grasping onto the rim for support. "Bonnie just celebrated her fourth birthday, and Rhett got her a pony named General Sherman."

Cathleen laughed drily. "Rhett sure does spoil that child, from what I hear. I'm expecting number three myself. We're both hoping it'll finally be a boy this time."

"Mm-hmm," Scarlett muttered, past pretending to care.

"So why exactly did you leave Atlanta?"

Scarlett slumped in her seat. "Oh, Cathleen, let's just say you were right about Captain Butler."

"Your husband?"

"A cad, if I've ever met one. A real skunk. I wish I'd never met him. Oh, I feel terrible. Everyone tried to warn me about him and I wouldn't listen. It's a long story, but... I can't go back to him."

"Is he why you're wearing that trench coat in the middle of summer?" Cathleen asked her.

Scarlett nodded sheepishly. "All I'm wearing under this is nightclothes."

Scarlett was so embarrassed that she didn't notice Cathleen take the collar between her fingers and mouth, _Why, this is Mr. Wilkes'! _.

"You can't be a coward about this, Scarlett," Cathleen chastised her. "You have to face your problems head on."

"You don't understand," said Scarlett confidentially, and she whispered the entire story in Cathleen's ear.

"You could stay with me and Mr. Hilton," Cathleen said concernedly.

"That's very kind of you, but I've already decided that I'm staying at Mimosa," said Scarlett. "It's just that- well, they aren't quite as poor as you, and- "

"Oh, I see," said Cathleen, frowning. "You don't trust me to keep a secret, that's why. You think I'm just a big gossip like Suellen."

"Well, if I did, there wouldn't be much use in my not wanting to stay with you, since you already know where I'll be," said Scarlett angrily, not caring that Cathleen had guessed the truth. "Ever since you married that white-trash overseer you've been nothing but white trash yourself."

"You're a fickle friend, Scarlett," Cathleen said bitterly. "First you refuse a kindly offer and then you insult me. See if I ever do anything for you again."

"I never claimed to be your friend," Scarlett snapped back. "We've always been at each other's throats over one man or another."

"Look, Scarlett, I'm sorry for my outburst," said Cathleen with a heavy sigh, folding her hands neatly and turning to the other woman. "You didn't deserve that. You've been through a lot and so have I. For old times' sake, let's try to be civil to each other."

Scarlett bit into one of her peaches. The sweet juice dripped into her lap and all over her hands, but she didn't care. Riding down the dirt road, she saw the graves of the four Tarleton boys, the twins' together. For the first time, she felt something almost like empathy towards them. They were identical in death as they were in life, shallow and devoid of meaning, but now with heads of gray instead of red. The outlines of their tombstones formed a dull outline against the pinkish sky, and she could almost hear their raucous laughter. For just a moment she understood what it meant for one's heart to be in the grave, could comprehend why Carreen had gone off to become a nun. But only for a moment.

In spite of everything, Scarlett was relieved to be back in the County again, however brief or long her stay might be. It wasn't just Tara that she loved; Tara was nothing without Fairhill and Mimosa and Twelve Oaks and even the old Slattery place. Not that she realized it, exactly; Tara was still hers by virtue of Will Benteen and had survived while everything else around it had crumbled. Yes, Tara was special. As they passed it, the silent house reached out to tease her, just beyond her grasp- there it was, so close and yet so far. It pulled her towards it with a magnetic force, the most powerful love she had ever known or ever would know- love, not of land, but of a place to call her own.

The carriage stopped at Mimosa and Scarlett got out. Cathleen said goodbye and began to drive away. Summoning up all her courage, Scarlett walked resolutely down the dirt path and up the rotting stairs to the front door.

She wished Mammy or Uncle Peter or even Prissy were around to go in first and announce her. She hated having to break the ice. But she took a deep breath and stood outside the rotting old doorway of Mimosa, and rang the doorbell.

"Now who in tarnation could that be?" Grandma Fontaine exclaimed from inside, quite frazzled and surprised. The walls were worn so thin that Scarlett could make out every word. She pressed her ear against the door to listen.

"It'd better not be another Yankee demanding taxes," came Sally's high-pitched voice from the stairs. "I've already had to sell all my nice dresses and jewelry just to keep the measly few acres we've still got." Scarlett could even hear the patter of little Joe Junior clinging to his mother's skirts. It was funny, Scarlett thought; Sally had grown up with her, been one of the closest things she had ever had to a friend along with Cathleen; but all she could remember about her now was that she had been the one to come running over to Tara on a horse screaming to them that the war was over. _I suppose I'll never be able to look at Mimosa again without thinking about the war, or any of the other plantations, _she thought in one of her rare moments of self-reflection.

"I'll get it, ladies," said Alex, and he indeed came, finally, to open the door.

"Mrs. Ken- Butler," he said, startled and taken aback by her presence. "I haven't seen you in a while. Is everything all right?"

"No, Alex, but it's about as all right as it's going to be for a while," she responded. He stepped aside to let her in, and she followed. Thank God he hadn't been one of her beaux, or this would be terribly embarrassing. Why did everyone have to assume that every male/female encounter was romantic? Why couldn't men and women just support each other as friends and business associates?

"Is there more bad news about the government? Because to be honest, I thought the worst was over."

"It's about my husband, Captain Butler," she said. _Now there are two County people who know, _she thought warily. _No more. I've got to keep tabs on this. _Even though she instinctively trusted men more than she trusted women, she knew that speaking of her situation to anyone was dangerous.

"I warned you about that man," came Grandma Fontaine's voice roughly. _Now three. Shit._

"Hush, Mama," said Alex, embarrassed. He turned back to Scarlett. "What is it?"

"I just have to stay here for a while, if that's all right with you," she said. "I'll help out around the house and everything. I just can't go back to Atlanta for a while, or Tara either."

"Scarlett, if Captain Butler is making you feel unsafe, no amount of time is going to make that go away. It's better to just go and face what's causing you trouble rather than waiting for it to come to you."

"You sound just like the Tarletons," Scarlett said derisively. "How well did that work out for Tony? Or any of the other young men who were killed and went into hiding because they tried to stand up to the Yankees?"

"Don't you say bad things about my brother, Miss Scarlett," warned Alex, using the informal address he had used for her as a child. "Tony's not rash or stupid, and just because the man he killed happened to be your daddy's overseer doesn't make it all right for you to go disrespecting him. We all miss him around here, and if you don't like that, you can leave right now." Sally and Grandma Fontaine nodded vigorously.

"I'm sorry," Scarlett said defensively. "I won't say anything more about it. Have you heard back from him?" she asked. "Have you two been able to make any contact since... the night he left?" She knew how close the brothers were, almost as close as the Tarleton twins had been, and she dreaded the answer she knew he would give her.

"No," said Alex, shaking his head. "It's still a rough time out there. Things are better in Texas, or so I read in the papers; not as many Yankees stirring up trouble. But everyone's afraid to communicate to folks in other states because letters on the federal mail carriers are always under scrutiny."

This could work to her advantage or disadvantage, Scarlett realized. If she did end up going to Charleston, or even New Orleans or somewhere else, Rhett and Archie would have a much harder time finding her there across state borders. But so would Ashley.

"I'll ride over to Tara first thing tomorrow and tell Will Benteen to come over as soon as he can," said Alex, patting her shoulder. "I promise. Gentleman's honor." It was one of the few things he had left.

"Thank you, Alex," said Scarlett wearily. "I can't tell you how big of a help you've been to me."

"Sally will set you up in the guest room," said Alex as he retreated into the parlor, and Scarlett sighed. What a relief to be back in a house with a guest room, a hospitable County plantation! She thought she'd strangle herself if she had to share a room with another little boy- or worse yet, Sally and Grandma. The Yankees could burn down a house and all its acres, but they couldn't take away a guest room without taking away the whole house.

Sally took Scarlett's basket and silently led her into her room. Sally and Scarlett had always had a tacit agreement of staying out of each other's business, and so Sally respected Scarlett's privacy while making it clear that the last thing she wanted right now was a guest. Scarlett obliged her by avoiding eye contact and following her as quietly as a church mouse.

The room was small and homely, with a straw mattress and a dingy old quilt laid out on the bed. Scarlett thought it was the ugliest quilt she had ever seen. It looked like something the MacIntoshes might own. A strong lavender scent pervaded the room, and a weak yellow light wafted in, making Scarlett feel sickly immediately.

When the door was closed behind her, Scarlett discovered the chamber pot underneath the bed and kneeled down with the urgency of her father riding down a dirt path at full gallop. She had been storing up her urine since home and felt as if she were about to give birth to a water baby. The liquid poured out of her like a mighty waterfall for about a minute, and when she was done, she panted heavily and rested her head in her hands. She may have just ruined her skirts.

Exhausted and disgusted with herself, Scarlett dragged herself onto the bed and looked at the meager was of cash that Ashley had given her. It would last her a week at most, but coming from him it was exceedingly generous. She flipped through it again, then pocketed it and draped his overcoat on the back of the chair. Now she could finally get some sleep. Or better yet, finish eating her peaches.

* * *

**The previous night**

"Big brother?"

"What is it, Ella?" Wade asked groggily. He was cranky from having been woken up from the chatter in the girls' room across the hall. His sisters were both quite fond of small talk, and he was glad that he was the only boy so that he could get a room all to himself even though both his parents clearly wanted that honor to be reserved for Bonnie.

"I heard noises downstairs. Bad things. Can you go check and make sure everything's all right? Bonnie can't get back to sleep."

"Bonnie can never get to sleep," Wade complained. "Get Lou or Mammy to do it, if you're worried. I'm going back to bed."

"But I think Mommy might be in trouble."

Wade's eyes widened. Ever since he was born, he had been quietly preparing for the day when he would have to defend his mother against a bad man or bunch of men.

"Uncle Rhett will protect her," he said finally.

"But I think Uncle Rhett might be the one who's hurting Mommy."

"For God's sake, Ella, how did such an idea get inside your head?" Wade snapped. "You ungrateful girl, you know how Uncle Rhett's been just like a real father to us."

"What on earth is you chillun doin' out of bed at dis ungodly hour of de night?" Mammy demanded, coming down the hall with a lantern. "You go back into yo' rooms dis minute or Ah's tellin' yo' Uncle Rhett!"

"She's the one who dragged me out of bed," Wade told her. "It's her fault. She thought she heard noises downstairs." He rolled his eyes.

"Mist' Wade, you best start treatin' yo' lil sister like a young gempmum should. An' Miss Ella, you know dat you cain't leave yo' room while Miss Bonnie is asleep because she bound tuh wake up an' you know how she be scared of de dark."

"But I'm sure I heard something," said Ella timidly. "It was voices. Mommy's and Uncle Rhett's. They were fighting about something. And I heard something crash and Uncle Rhett screaming."

"Whutever dat may be, it ain't none of yo' bizness," said Mammy stubbornly. She herself slept like a rock- it was the only way she was able to survive doing what she did- so she couldn't testify to what Ella had said. It was only when something happened right outside her door that she awoke, and nothing made her more furious. "Now Ah'ma give you both tuh de count of three tuh get back into yo' rooms, and Ah doan wanna hear anudder word 'bout dis from eider of you. One, two- two an' a half- "

Wade retreated eagerly to his quarters, relieved to be getting some much-needed rest. But Ella backed slowly away, looking up at Mammy with pleading brown eyes. She leaned against the doorframe, her small body pressed against the frame.

"Mammy, if Uncle Rhett became a bad man, would you protect us?"

"Chile, Ah gwin become a bad woman in yo' eyes if you doan git back in dat room."

Ella gulped. "Yes, Mammy."

* * *

Much to Mammy's embarrassment, she soon learned that Ella was right. She knew she had to take the children back to Tara, or to Savannah or Charleston. But where? It had taken her so long to learn to trust Rhett; was she just supposed to forget about that now? Wade and Ella could be taken away without a fuss, but Bonnie was a different story. That child was a coward, no matter what her father said. She would scream and cry until he came to find her. Rhett was blinded by paternal love, and this was the most dangerous kind of man of them all.

She lay awake in bed the rest of that night. She didn't wake Lou; she didn't trust the new maid with what might end up being the most important task of her life. For the first time since being a slave, she felt truly powerless. She no longer felt like a slave against a master; she felt like a woman against a man, and she realized that this was what Ellen and her sisters and daughters had felt every day since they got married to men they didn't love. Part of her was almost glad that she had never married.

Finally she knew what she had to do. She made herself get up from her bed and go to Scarlett's room. If Scarlett was there, she'd wake her up and tell her everything.

But Scarlett wasn't there.

"Oh no, Miss Scahlett," Mammy whispered in horror, stealing frantically down the stairs. "Mah chile, Ah done let you down. Ah shoulda listened tuh mah gut dat wuz tellin' me tuh keep Cap'n Butler away from Miss Ellen's chile. Miss Ellen, if yo' soul up in Heaven kin hear me, Ah doan 'spect no forgiveness, but Ah swear tuh Gawd, if dat man done hurt yo' baby- "

She had reached the bottom of the stairs and was looking in every doorway to find Scarlett. Suddenly she noticed the dim lamplight wafting down the hall from the dining room and stopped. Slowly, she pushed open the door and walked in.

Right below the chair where Rhett normally sat, a burgundy stain had soiled the fine silk carpet. Broken glass lay strewn around where the chair had been knocked over, and a trail of heavy footprints barely discernible to Mammy's no-longer-keen eyes led out to the front door. In less than a second, her sharp mind pieced the whole situation together.

For the first time in her life, Mammy fainted.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! If you've come this far, maybe you'd like to follow :) I know Archie and Will weren't in this chapter, sorry, I just couldn't fit them in. They'll be in the next chapter, probably, but no guarantees. As always, remember to review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**AN- I sincerely apologize for the delay! I wish I could have updated this weekend like I said, but the Les Mis fandom has been taking up a lot of my time lately, which I know is no excuse. Sorry to keep you all waiting. I worked really hard on this and posted it as soon as I could. Every chapter is like a little puzzle, and each piece has to be carefully constructed and checked against canon to make it all fit together. I am trying to be meticulous in keeping everyone in character. And, as this is a suspense story, I'm trying to put at least one cliffhanger in every chapter. Maybe two weeks would be a better interval to ensure quality. How does that sound?**

**Also, I think I need a beta to help keep this story on track. Please PM me if you are interested. There are a lot of threads going at once, so you have to be able to stay on your toes.**

* * *

At the same time Scarlett arrived at Mimosa, Mammy woke up in a dimly lit room with only a small window and a kerosene lantern on the bedside table. She opened her eyes slowly, growing accustomed to the flickering light and the three shadowy figures around her.

"That was a very close call, Mammy," said Rhett, standing over her with his hands in his pockets. "You're lucky to have survived." Mammy immediately recoiled at his sight. After all, she suspected, he was responsible for Scarlett's disappearance. She was surprised he hadn´t been an even bigger coward, running away to Belle's because he was unable to deal with his shame. She couldn't decide if this made her more or less suspicious.

"Thank goodness the children were awake, or we might not have gotten to her in time," Melanie added.

"Where am Ah? Whut's happened tuh me?" Mammy asked her, greatly relieved to see Scarlett's friend.

"You've had a heart attack," said Dr. Meade matter-of-factly. "At your age, you're working much too hard. I've recommended that you take a leave to rest and get your health under control."

"By mah health you mean mah weight, Dr. Meade," said Mammy frankly.

"Yes, now that you mention it. Your weight has put a lot of strain on your back and legs, and it's causing your muscles to atrophy. Really, though, I think it's just all the stress you've been under recently. Let Lou be the head darky for a while and see if that doesn't help you to feel better."

Mammy harrumphed to show her displeasure. No one else got to be head darky as long as she could walk. Meanwhile, her aged mind was forming a plan. A plan to get the children away, that had been interrupted when she fell. Maybe the white folks were all lying to her. Maybe she hadn't really had a heart attack after all. How could Dr. Meade be sure? But, clutching her chest and feeling the dull, tight pain, she knew. She had been within an inch of her life. But she took comfort in knowing that it was the children, and not Rhett, who had brought her back from the abyss.

Wade, Ella and Bonnie were all gathered around the bed, flocked in a row behind the adults and near the door. All of them worried greatly, wondering if they had caused this to happen. Ella bit her nails and hid behind a chair.

"Ella, dear, what are you doing back there?" Rhett chided her, reaching for his stepdaughter. "Come out and say hello to Mammy. She's going to be just fine as soon as she sees your pretty face." Ella was so scared that she stuck her entire thumb in her mouth, but Rhett carried her over as if he didn't notice.

"Thank you for catching her out of bed and sending her back to her room, Mammy," said Rhett, stroking Ella's mousy hair. "That could have resulted in quite a nasty fall."

"Here, dear," said Mammy, reaching weakly for the girl. "You wasn't scared fo' po' ole Mammy, was you?"

Ella shook her head, but everyone could tell she was lying.

"Mist' Rhett," said Mammy, turning to the man, "Ah thinks Ah needs tuh get 'way from 'Lanta fo' a spell. Dis ole house ain't gwine hep me recover. Ah gots tuh go back tuh Tara. Dat fresh air will do mah ole bones good."

"Absolutely not," Dr. Meade said sternly. "Any travel by train or carriage would kill you."

"Dat´s awright wid me, Docta Meade. If Ah die, Ah die. Ah's ole, an' Ah knows Ah ain't got much time left in no case. Ah sure would lak tuh see de ole place agin afore Ah go up tuh heaven, maybe even back tuh Savannah where Ah done grew up in de Robillard house. Lotsa memories be waitin' for me dere. Consider dat mah dyin' wish."

"That sounds just fine, Mammy," Rhett agreed, glaring at the doctor. After all, how cruel would he be to deny this infirm old woman her dying wish, even if she was a darky? A good darky, a loyal darky. But of course, this was also part of the plan.

"An' suh- if'n you doan mind, Ah'd lak tuh take de chillun wid me. Dey smooth faces and lil smiles are de best medicine dat Ah know of."

"Of course, Mammy," Rhett said. "And Mr. and Mrs. Benteen and Prissy will be there to help you if you ever get too weak."

Mammy smiled. Her plan was working...partially.

"You and Scarlett are not so different, Mammy," Rhett observed, sitting down on her bed. "You both have a deep love of home and family, and you both have heaps of common sense to boot. If I may say so, it's really too bad that you're a nigger."

"Why, thank you, Cap'n Butler," said Mammy. The unintended insult burned no less the thousandth time, but her mind was elsewhere.

"I'll be right back," he told her, getting up.

"Let me see mah precious Bonnie," Mammy said. "An' Massa' Wade, whut's turnin' into a fine, strong young gempmum."

Rhett scooped up his young daughter and placed her in Mammy's weakened arms. Wade walked over beside him, slowly and shyly, and put his hand inside Mammy's.

"You're going to be all right, Mammy," he said softly, trying to assure himself. Until he had feared for her life, he never realized how much of a mother she was to him. To all of them. But he knew that he needed to be the man of the house for a while.

"Of course Ah gwine be awright, sugar," she told him. "You'se a brave lil man, Massa Wade. You take care of yo' sisters fo' me. An' tell yo' cousin Massa Beau dat ole Mammy ain't goin' nowhere no time soon."

"All right, Mammy," said Wade with a gulp. "I believe you."

* * *

Though he had hid it well all throughout the day, Rhett was as panicked as anyone over Scarlett's disappearance. Mammy's health scare had given him just the distraction he needed to slip away and think. If it had occurred to him that his actions had triggered her heart attack, he might have felt guilty, but he didn't draw the connection and no one else drew it for him. The old darky was just wandering about at night with her lantern, he supposed, when she got spooked by a shadow she thought she saw moving across the floor. He had never known Mammy to spook easily, but what other explanation could there be? They all had to face the fact that her days were coming to an end, and her working days were probably already over. Well, he'd hate to lose her.

A day later, it was still unfathomable to him. Scarlett, his wife, had run away from him in the dead of night. No money, no food, not even a pair of shoes on her feet. She had been that desperate to get away from him and into the arms of Ashley. At this particular moment, Rhett hated Ashley Wilkes with every single fiber of his being. He was nothing but a pretender, and he and Scarlett were both putting on an elaborate charade just to drive him, Rhett Butler, insane. It was like following a trail of bread crumbs: Where did she go last night? Where did she go this morning? Where is she going to go from there? He couldn't take it. He was sick of playing games with that woman. He lay down on his bed again in resignation, and resignation soon turned to deep thought.

_If I were Scarlett, where would I go? _Rhett asked himself and came up blank. Never before had he asked himself such a question. It was always, What am I going to do about Scarlett? But no sooner had he asked again than he found the answer.

"Tara," he said to himself. He collapsed onto the bed with a heavy breath. "No, that's too obvious. She's smarter than that; she knows I'd come looking for her there." He turned his face into the pillow again.

He tried to be logical. Any money she would have had for train fare had to have come from Ashley, and he was poor. He couldn't afford to send her to Savannah or Charleston. True, he might push himself even deeper into debt to get her far away from Atlanta. But sooner or later she'd have to come back. She couldn't stay away forever. He'd just lay low for a while, waiting for her to return, and if she didn't, he'd divorce her on the grounds that she had abandoned their children.

His heart said otherwise. He couldn't wait a month or six months or a year for Scarlett to return. Not when he had come this far and was so close to finally winning her affections. In the words of Tony Fontaine, it wasn't to be borne. And it wouldn't be borne. She was his wife. He had to remind her of that fact.

For the next several hours, he sat at his desk writing letters. Cool and calculating, clearing his clouded mind, it was a bit of a desperate act- more systematic than wasting money on train fare, and requiring less patience. He wrote to his mother and sister in Charleston, to Carreen at the convent, to aunts Pauline and Eulalie, to Scarlett's paternal uncles James and Andrew in Savannah, to Pittypat and Henry Hamilton's relatives in Macon, to family friends in the county, to folks in Jonesboro, Milledgeville, Marietta, and even as far away as New Orleans. He didn't bother with people in Atlanta- he could track them down himself. He wouldn't directly ask them if they had seen his wife- oh no, he was far too smart for that. He would merely mention her in an offhand sort of way, tailoring his comments to the specific recipient, and ask if they had heard from her lately. And with any luck, these recipients wouldn't speak to each other. He was casting a net all across the South, hoping to rein in Scarlett O'Hara.

Doing his first detective work was exciting. It made him feel like a criminal.

* * *

Melanie came home late that evening. She never stayed out late, ever. She never had anywhere to be, and most social gatherings took place at her home due to her famous hospitality. But today, she felt it necessary to stay with Mammy, to comfort her, and Doctor Meade had recommended that she keep watch on Mammy and call him if another emergency were to arise. Fortunately, Mammy seemed to be doing fine, but she had difficulty breathing and had to be propped up so that she wouldn´t suffocate during the night.

When Melanie came home, Ashley was waiting for her at the door. He had been wary ever since Scarlett came to him, running barefoot, begging him to let her stay the night. Had that been only yesterday? It felt like years ago. He sat in the living room nervously reading the newspaper, with the porch light on outside so he could watch and make sure that his wife arrived home safely. He couldn't imagine who would ever want to harm sweet, gentle Melanie, but it seemed that these days anything could happen to anyone.

"Melanie!" he exclaimed, rushing out to greet her. "What took you so long? Is Scarlett's mammy going to be all right?"

"Yes, thank God," Melanie told him, rushing towards him and grasping his chilly hands. "I wish I could have told you, but it took hours for Doctor Meade to finally tell me to go home. He says I did all I could do, but I still feel like I haven't done nearly enough. I mean, Mammy has always been such a good friend, and so loyal to Scarlett- "

"You've done plenty, Melly," he told her. "You always have. Beau and I were worried sick about you. We were afraid of- I don't even know what, but we were frightened for you."

"I know," said Melanie. "I'm sorry. I know how you men worry for me, and I am grateful."

"How is Captain Butler?" asked Ashley, leading her inside. "Is he ashamed of what he did?"

"Of what?" Melanie asked, deeply confused. Ashley went suddenly pale- he realized he'd said too much. "He was very kind and helpful today, to all of us."

"What about Scarlett? She went missing, you know. No one's seen her since last night."

"Well, that's odd," Melanie said. "I suppose she must have gone back to Tara, or maybe to Marietta or Macon. Rhett probably respects her privacy too much to say."

"What about the children?" Ashley asked, changing the subject quickly for fear of incriminating himself, though he had done nothing wrong and had actually done a good deed. "How are they dealing with it?"

"Not well," Melanie said sadly, looking down at the floor. "Ella looked about ready to break down in tears, and I could tell Bonnie wasn't much farther away, though she tried to hide it to save face in front of her father. Wade held up the best of them, but I suppose that's to be expected. He already knows what it's like to lose someone." She sighed softly, remembering her brother.

"Melly," Ashely began in a low voice, hesitantly but seriously, "what would you say if I told you that Rhett Butler is a menace to society? That some means must be taken to prove it and protect others from him...to put him away if necessary?"

Melanie gaped up at him with her watery brown eyes. She had heard before, of course, that Captain Butler was bad news more times than she could count, from countless different people. But hearing it from her own husband- and in such harsh terms, to 'put him away'- was something she had never expected. She knew Ashley didn't like or trust Captain Butler, but hearing the condemnatory words from his own lips, she was forced to seriously consider the possibility that everyone else had been right about him all along.

"Did you know, my dear wife," he continued, "that neither this fair city, nor the state of Georgia, nor any other city or state in the South of which I am aware, has any laws protecting women and children against violence inside their own homes?"

"Ashley, what are you getting at?" Melanie asked apprehensively.

"Did you know, Melanie, that Archie has been spreading rumors about Scarlett to Captain Butler?" Ashley asked more loudly and passionately, his courage growing. He was angry and righteous, in her face now, yet somehow he was still pale as a ghost. "And Captain Butler believed him? Didn't even ask to hear Scarlett's side of the story, just jumped to conclusions and jumped right over her head? This is a man who openly consorts with wh- with ungentle figures- and expects his wife to be holy and virtuous when he comes home. Melanie- " he gulped- "I forbid you to associate with that man ever again."

Both of them stood in shock. It was the first time Ashley had ever forbidden Melanie from doing something. He trusted her completely, but he had always been waiting for the day when he would have to assert his marital authority over her. He felt more like a protective older brother or cousin than an angry or jealous husband.

"You can see Mammy," he clarified once he had calmed down. "You can visit the children. I want you to look after them. Just don't...you know. Just don't."

"Ashley," Melanie told him softly, "in a few days Mammy is taking the children with her to Tara."

* * *

Ashley brooded over this conversation far into the night, particularly the way he had blamed Rhett and not Archie for endangering Scarlett. If he had a daughter, he knew, he'd do everything in his power to protect her from someone like Archie. Any responsible father would. But Melanie couldn't be made suspicious of him, not yet. Her fragile female mind wouldn't be able to handle the knowledge that he had it in for her best friend. On the other hand, she had taken him in knowing he was a murderer. So...

There was only one way to calm his nerves. To gauge the threat, to test the waters. He crept into the basement, looking for Archie. He needed to prove to himself that he wasn't a coward.

The basement was a tiny room, all they could afford, really no bigger than a closet. At first it had been dark, dusty and covered with cobwebs, and now it fared little better. They had wanted it in case the Yankees came through again, as a place for them to hide, but now Archie had converted it into a guest room. The old convict was crouched on the floor, shoving chicken legs into his mouth as if he were a wild animal. He looked up at Ashley the way a troll would look at a young girl who wanted to pass over his bridge in a fairy tale.

"What do you want?" he demanded in a rough growl. "Ain't no worse than prison down here. Food's better, too." He took another uncivilized bite, tearing into the tender meat with his blunt teeth.

"Archie, come out of there for a minute," Ashley said calmly. "We need to talk."

"I get it," Archie said, licking his chapped lips. "You an' Miss Melanie want me outta here. You're gonna put me back on the streets agin, aintcha? You think I'm not bringin' in enough?"

"No," Ashley said, taking another step down the stairs. "We just need to talk to you about what happened yesterday. Just to clear up some misunderstandings."

"What misunderstandings?" Archie harrumphed, and Ashley stepped back, fearing that he had crossed a line. "I saw something over there that threatens your precious honor, Mr. Wilkes, and I know how much you wish I hadn't. But what's done is done. You'd jus' better be glad that you're not a woman, and that I respect your wife so much, or you'd be dead jus' like that Scarlett bitch oughta be."

Ashley tried to think. What was he looking for here- evidence against Rhett, or evidence against Archie? If it was the latter, then he had definitely found it. Archie would probably even confess at the trial. He might as well call Scarlett back to Atlanta right now to testify against him! Part of him wished to God that Melanie was overhearing this, and another part wished to God that she wasn't. You can hurt me, he thought vaguely, looking up, but if you go after Scarlett, or my wife or son-

"It would be easier if your sister weren't on my side, wouldn't it?" Archie asked rhetorically, flashing an ugly grin that Ashley fortunately couldn't see. "She knows what she saw that day with her own two eyes. Some things run thicker than blood, I guess. An' remember, Mrs. Wilkes is her cousin, too. Naturally she wants to protect her from scandals like this."

"India has always hated Melanie ever since she started standing up for Scarlett," Ashley said. "The truth is, she's just- " He stopped himself before he said "jealous".

Archie shrugged. "In any case, good luck callin' your sister an' the doctor's wife liars." He clicked his tongue mockingly. "Honestly, Mr. Wilkes, I never thought you'd sink so low. I might've believed that Scarlett was the temptress and you her innocent victim, but you defending her just proved me wrong. Another man's wife...in a just world, it'd be a crime. An' the two lovers should hang together, side by side."

* * *

"Miss Scarlett," said Sally Fontaine, calling from the front door, "you have a visitor."

Scarlett sighed with intense relief. It had to be Will Benteen. He would take care of everything. "Let him in," she called back, slipping into one of Sally's gingham gowns. It was dirty, but it was her best option for now, and Will didn't care.

"Oh," she said, seeing the people at the door. It was Will- and Suellen. Why did Suellen have to come here? She ruined every conversation the two had.

"I thought I'd drop by and see my big sister," said Suellen, reading Scarlett's mind. "I've got a right to be here, don't I?"

"Yes, of course you do, Mrs. Benteen," said Sally kindly. "Can I get you two some coffee or tea?"

"Just coffee for me, thanks," said Will. "No sugar." Like there was any.

"Tea, please," Suellen said.

While Sally went into the kitchen to fetch the drinks, Suellen came close to Scarlett. "I know you're not here to make a casual call, Scarlett, but there's something non-business that I have to discuss with you. I have to say this before you and Will can go off to chat. It's an apology."

Scarlett was not listening for most of this speech, but she perked up at the word 'apology'. Why, Suellen had never apologized in her life! Well, Scarlett thought, she certainly owes me one. But I'm betting Will put her up to it just to get her on good terms with me.

"I don't think it's all right that in-laws are closer than sisters, and I don't like the way you and Will have been going over my head about the affairs of Tara," Suellen prefaced. "I feel you owe me an apology as well, and perhaps we can come to a civil understanding."

_Civil? Understanding? Will Benteen, you miracle worker, what have you done with my real sister?_

"I'll say I'm sorry for getting mad at you for marrying Frank Kennedy, if you say you're sorry for getting mad at me for trying to save Tara."

"Suellen!" Will pinched her arm sharply. "That ain't how no apology works. Now, you be a lady towards your sister."

"You mean for killing Pa?" Scarlett countered angrily, ignoring him. "I'll never forgive you for that. You'd have a better chance of my forgiveness if you were the Yankee who took a torch to Atlanta!"

"Think of it, Scarlett," Suellen said. "A hundred fifty thousand dollars. It was practically guaranteed. You would've done the same thing. And if it had worked, you wouldn't have had to marry that skunk Captain Butler. He's the reason you're down here, isn't it?" She folded her arms and took a step back. "Pa had no one to blame for his death but himself."

"You take that back!" Scarlett shouted, lunging at her sister to give her a good slap across the face. Suellen ducked and dodged the blow, and Will grabbed Scarlett's arm midair.

"Stop it, both of you! What would Carreen say if she saw you two fightin' like this?"

Both women fell silent. They knew that years later, Will still carried a flame for the youngest O'Hara girl. Her sweet, peaceful nature had won him over, and Suellen bit her lip in jealousy, as if to say _I can't believe you actually played that card_.

"You ought to thank me for marrying Frank Kennedy and getting him killed," Scarlett continued in a lower voice. "I did you a huge favor. None of us ever knew what you saw in him in the first place, and damned if I know what he ever saw in you. He's old enough to be our pa. I carried that man's child, Suellen, in order to save Tara so you could live there. I ran a lumber mill to help pay the taxes, despite his constant attempts to hinder me. I endured his terrible business skills and his involvement with the Klan. I have made some great sacrifices for this home and family, Suellen O'Hara, and all I've gotten for it so far from you is one big slap in the face!"

"I'm the one who actually has to live in that hellhole!" Suellen retorted. "You get to live in the biggest, nicest house in Atlanta and wear the most fashionable Parisian gowns that your husband's blood money can buy, but poor, ugly Suellen has to keep her boots planted on infertile soil so it doesn't fly out from under our feet. Have I not been hardworking? Have I not been loyal? Have I complained too much? For the last six years I've been ruining my hands picking cotton and ruining my feet walking for miles on a dirt road with worn-thin shoes, while trying to take care of three children! All because you stubbornly insist that we have to keep Tara away from the Carpetbaggers and the Scallawags which, by the way, I was trying to do! Love of land- it's the stupidest thing there is!"

"ENOUGH!" Will bellowed, stunning them into silence.

Sally Fontaine came into the room, her jaw wide open and the requested beverages set out on a tray.

"Suellen." Will said softly and slowly. "Go into the parlor with Sally an' make some pleasant conversation with Grandma and Alex. Scarlett, let's go somewhere we can talk."

* * *

**AN: Sorry about what I did to Mammy! Will Ashley become an early women's rights crusader? Will Scarlett and Suellen find some common ground after their fight? Will Rhett track down Scarlett and demand her in his bed again? Not if she has anything to say about it! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Oh my God, people, I am so sorry. I have been very bad, haven't I? I've been so negligent. Please review. Even though I don't deserve it. (*sniff*)**

* * *

While Rhett Butler was feeling satisfied with himself for writing letters, Ashley was coming up with a plan of his own. If he could uncover evidence of a conspiracy, a plan to rob Scarlett of her honor and then divorce her, maybe he could then ensure her safety. The Yankees may have differed from Southerners in many respects, but one thing they seemed to agree on was that a woman's honor must be protected at all costs, even her health and happiness. It made Ashley's blood boil, to the extent that such New England patrician blood transplanted into the Deep South could be made to boil at high temperatures. He was simply not in step with the values of the gentlemen of his time. Why was it so hard for them to understand that women were human beings, just like they were? God- it made him want to punch through a wall.

But better yet, he could make a call on his Uncle Henry.

Uncle Henry Hamilton, he remembered, was a lawyer. Yes, he was a staunchly conservative old codger of a lawyer who had never gotten along well with Ashley, and he had never put in a good word for Scarlett. But he was family nonetheless, and fortunately, he never spoke a word to his gossipy sister Aunt Pittypat. Although he specialized in property rights (a field which had been hit hard by the Yankee occupation), there was a lot of overlap into domestic law, and Ashley thought he might be his only hope- that is, if he could track down enough evidence on his own. He knew he couldn't afford to pay Hamilton, but Hamilton might take the case pro bono if his nephew did his fair share of the work. Rhett Butler had neglected to write to Hamilton because he had dismissed the possibility of Scarlett going to stay with him.

On the day Henry Hamilton returned from business in Macon and checked into the Atlanta Hotel, Ashley went straight from the lumber mill to the room where his uncle was staying and explained the situation to him. Uncle Henry harrumphed periodically, nodded, scratched his beard, and made all sorts of noises indicating various levels of contempt for all parties involved.

Finally, when Ashley was finished explaining, Uncle Henry took a minute to consider and replied that he'd help, but only if Ashley agreed that he could cover his tracks and that he'd take all the blame if things went awry. After all, there was a lot up against them, not the least of which the law. And Ashley knew that his own emotions, far from helping, were actually in the way.

It was around this time that Ashley drilled the peephole in the pantry door. He felt almost like a conspirator, and then he remembered that he was one. But he was conspiring against a conspiracy, and sometimes two wrongs could, in fact, make a right.

Ashley Wilkes had never considered himself sneaky. He certainly never thought that he'd have to become a spy. One of the things he hated about his culture was the way people always beat around the bush and never said what they meant. He tried to rise above that, to get things out in the open, but he knew he was too much of a coward. He had kept secrets well enough while he was in the Army, proving a model prisoner from the Confederate perspective and refusing to break under interrogation- not that he knew any of Lee's battle plans. With the KKK it had been even harder, as he detested the group's methods and was sometimes half inclined to turn himself and everyone else in to the Yankees, but for his honor. But now, duty called in the form of necessity, and he needed the dirt on Rhett Butler. He needed to lay the trap, to set the bait, to lure Rhett Butler back into his house. He knew only one person still in Atlanta who knew Rhett well enough to give him what he needed, who was unfortunately the one person whose home he swore he'd never set foot in again. Belle Watling. And he knew only one person who could set up a meeting with him and Belle Watling in a secure location. His wife.

* * *

"Who's going to run the mill?" Will asked.

"Oh, I can't even think about the mill anymore," Scarlett said, tearing at her hair. That damn mill was the reason her life was ruined. If she hadn't insisted on keeping it after she married Rhett, she wouldn't have gone down there the day before yesterday, she wouldn't have embraced Ashley, she wouldn't have been caught by Archie and Mrs. Meade and India, she wouldn't have been humiliated at Ashley's party, Rhett wouldn't have attacked her, and she wouldn't be here now, having this conversation with Will Benteen.

"You have to think about it, Scarlett," Will told her sensibly. "An' soon. You're gonna have to decide what you wanna do about it, or you'll lose all the money you've been bringin' in. An' you can't afford to let any money slip through your fingers no more. I know it's tempting 'cause you're rich now, but remember that most of that money comes from Captain Butler. An' God only knows how much longer you'll have access to that money."

"Johnnie Gallegher will take care of it," Scarlett said offhandedly, sounding more confident than she felt. "He's always been a good businessman."

"I haven't met the man, so I know I don't have the right to disapprove of him," began Will slowly. "But from everythin' I've heard, he's a greedy, two-timin' weasel. He'll cheat you out of your fair share if you give him half a chance. Not to mention my personal feelings about the type of labor he uses..."

"Oh, don't tell me you're on Frank and Ashley and Archie's side," said Scarlett disdainfully, rolling her eyes. "Convict labor is cheap and efficient, and in any case they aren't treated any worse than we treated our darkies before the war."

"Be that as it may," Will said tensely, "I still think my reservations are in your best interest, Miss Scarlett. I suggest you find a more reliable friend to run your business from here on out."

"But to do that, I'd have to dismiss Johnnie," Scarlett said.

"Good," remarked Will. "The sooner, the better."

"But where could I possibly find a replacement on such short notice?" Scarlett demanded, frustrated at how Will was missing the point.

"I'll do it," he said.

Scarlett stopped cold. "Will Benteen, is this some kind of a joke? You overseeing a lumber mill?"

"Why not? I'm surprised at how little faith you have in me, Miss Scarlett. You need a friend you can trust, someone who will look out for you over there. I'll catch the next train to Atlanta an' tell Mr. Gallegher he can pack his things an' go."

"But what about Tara?"

"Suellen can mind Tara," said Will carelessly. "After all, it is her place, an' I'm sure she'll be glad to have me out of her hair for a while. An' of course, you kin come check in from time to time an' make sure she's runnin' things all right."

Scarlett scoffed. How could she possibly keep Suellen in line? Suellen would do what Suellen would do, like she always had. She'd probably trade Tara for a cabinet full of pretty dresses if Scarlett turned away for a minute.

"You don't trust Suellen like you should, Miss Scarlett," said Will, reading her mind. "Now you may be her sister, but I know her better in seven years of bein' her husband than you know her in twenty-six. She may be a little flaky, flighty, not the sharpest tool in the shed, but she ain't no sellout or traitor. Jus' give her a chance to prove herself. She's got your O'Hara survival instincts an' you need to realize that she an' you aren't much different at all."

"But Will," said Scarlett desperately, "what experience do you have with lumber mills?"

"More than you, at any rate. You'd be surprised, Miss Scarlett. I grew up on a small farm with lots of timber, more per acre than farmland. So I know a thing or two about trees. I know about growin' 'em, choppin' 'em an' sellin' 'em. If it's a lumber mill you're talkin', then I'm your man. I bet I could make twice what Gallegher makes, but honestly."

"All right," said Scarlett reluctantly. "You can go to Atlanta. Meet up with Ashley Wilkes when you get there."

"Thank you, Miss Scarlett," said Will sarcastically, getting up. "I don't suppose Mr. Wilkes has finally realized that he returns your feelings for him."

"No," said Scarlett, thoughtfully. "For the first time in twelve years, I'm not in love with anyone."

* * *

Will's concerns were very prescient. Meanwhile, back in Atlanta, Johnnie Gallegher was counting his profits hand over fist. He hoped to maintain the loyalty of customers like Hugh Elsing and Rene Picard, who needed the lumber constantly to make repairs on his shoddily made pie cart. With the federal government deciding to phase out Reconstruction, the economy was finally picking back up. And while there was decidedly less patriotic fervor in the air, there was more of a quiet determination and a cool relief that made everyone breathe a little easier from day to day.

It was on this day- two days after "the incident", as we shall refer to it from here on out- that India Wilkes came into Johnnie Gallegher's store. She was wearing a prim, modest dress and leather gloves and entered through the door with a sense of purpose. Looking up at her, Johnnie Gallegher had the impression that she wasn't just here to buy lumber. After all, what use did an unmarried woman with no permanent residence have for wood?

"I'm surprised you're still working here, Johnnie Gallegher," said India as she laid her money down on the counter and placed her order. Just as Johnnie had suspected, it wasn't much. "After what Mrs. Butler did with my brother, it must be very difficult to save face while remaining in the employment of such a woman."

"Oh, you know I don't give a flying fig for gossip, Miss Wilkes," Johnnie replied cheerily, counting her cash and depositing it under his desk. "Mrs. Butler's a good collaborator, an' that's all that matters to me."

"So it doesn't concern you that she's a coward?" India pressed him, resting her elbow on the desk impertinently. "That she ran away in the dead of night to God knows where?"

Johnnie's eyes widened in shock. "She's gone?"

"You didn't hear about it? I assumed you'd be the first to know. I thought you'd follow any and all rumors of her whereabouts, but a decent business partner doesn't fly off without a moment's notice without so much as a letter. It just goes to prove that women shouldn't be in business. They're too flighty and emotional."

"What about you, Miss Wilkes? You're an old maid, if you don't mind me sayin' so, an' you can't keep living off your inheritance an' your brother's money forever. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous of her ability to rein in both the men and the dough."

India's deathly pale face turned bright red at this insult, and she glared at Johnnie with the wrath of a thousand suns. Charming as Johnnie could be when he wanted to, he was a boor at heart and could never resist telling a joke at someone's expense.

"There are such things as a missing persons report, but I doubt she's in any danger from anyone besides her husband an' that Archie figure," Johnnie continued.

India turned and left the store in a huff as soon as Johnnie had given her what she came in for. Johnnie chuckled softly to himself as she left. Women.

Despite his indifferent demeanor, Johnnie was worried. Scarlett Butler could be annoying at times, but she was by far the best business partner he had ever had. She was never silly or impractical, and she could do sums in her head twice as fast as he could. She was a valuable asset to any business enterprise. But, be that as it may, everything was more profitable when it was done without interference- and when you didn't have to split the profits. For example, Johnnie had just "forgotten" to give India Wilkes her change and receipt.

Both of the people in the store that day had had an agenda. And both of them, to some extent, achieved it. But Johnnie still wondered in the back of his mind what India intended to do with all that wood. It wasn't like she had a lot of money to spare for that kind of thing.

* * *

Mammy knew how lucky she had been to be a house slave. Her mother had been a house slave back in Haiti, and her mother before her, so she had never had to compete for the position. Hers was a family line of females right alongside the Robillards. She had a certain contempt for field hands and wet nurses, wrong though she knew it was. She had never thought much about the possibility of freedom. Master Pierre was always kind to her, and never took advantage of her the way some masters did. In fact, no man had ever found her attractive, but she channeled some of her frustration from this to care for the daughters entrusted to her, especially her favorites.

Like Pierre and Solange, Mammy had been a bit disgusted when it was announced that Ellen was going to marry Gerald O'Hara. She didn't want to have to move to some godforsaken part of Georgia any more than Ellen did. She wished she could stay behind and care for Pauline or Eulalie, but no. The Mammy belonged to the eldest daughter, and went where she went. So it was goodbye, Savannah, and hello, north Georgia. Gerald proved tolerable, at least, but Mammy never respected him. She was grateful when Atlanta grew into a city so that there was somewhere exciting for her to go, though it lacked the grace and elegant charm of Savannah. Perhaps Ellen's affair with her cousin Phillippe hadn't been such a bad thing after all.

***Flashback***

_"Oh, Mammy, it's horrible!" Ellen sobbed into Mammy's pleated skirts. "Phillippe- he's dead! Some bastard in New Orleans shot him!" She began to curse for a while in French while Mammy held her soothingly and whispered in her ear._

_"Dere, dere, Miss Ellen," Mammy repeated, patting Ellen's lithe back and brushing away her tears. "It's gwine be awright. Yo' mammy's got you." _

_"I'll never get over him," Ellen cried inconsolably. "I'll never love another man, especially not Mr. O'Hara. I'll always love Phillippe, I'll go to my grave loving him." _

_"No you woan, Miss Ellen," Mammy told her. "You'se gwine learn tuh love Mist' Gerald, jus' lak he already done fallen in lub wid you. He a good man, Miss Ellen."_

_"I won't bear his children," Ellen said vehemently. "They'd be ugly, pig-faced little runts. I won't let him touch me with his filthy Irish paws." _

_"You done taken an oath, Miss Ellen," Mammy reminded her sternly. "You gotsa keep yo' honor an' de honor of yo' fambly."_

_"Oh, what honor do the Robillards have? Maman has done all sorts of unspeakably scandalous things!" _

_"Doan you go sayin' bad things 'bout yo' mama, Miss Ellen," Mammy warned. "All dat's in de past."_

_"How come I have to follow all these rules of propriety and Maman doesn't? Will I just 'age out of it' one day like her, and people will stop caring?" _

_"Yo' mama be a married woman, Miss Ellen, an' people cut married women mo' slack provided dat dey leave all dat behind dem once dey git married. Dey'se gwine grant you mo' privacy an' stop watchin' every lil thing dat you say an' do. A young lady's job is to find husself a good husband, dere ain't never been no deception 'bout dat." _

_"It's just not fair," Ellen complained, losing her energy for weeping and collapsing onto the bed. "It's so unfair."_

_"Ah knows it, Miss Ellen," Mammy told her, letting go. But how could Ellen ever truly know what it felt like to be hopelessly trapped?_

***Flashback ends***

Now, holding the hands of Ellen's three grandchildren as she sat in the train station with Rhett and Melanie, Mammy found that maybe some part of her really did long to see Tara again. How could she love Tara? No matter how much she had cared for some of the people there, it still represented over twenty years of slavery, twenty years of her life stolen from her. Why didn't she want to spend her dying days up north, in the land of freedom, if not equality? Hadn't she ever dreamed of freedom like the other slaves? Hadn't she ever thought of escape? Didn't she wish, even now, that she could go there for just a month or two and shake the hands of some of the brave Union soldiers who had fought to liberate her and her people? If not for herself, then for Big Sam, the foreman, and all the other field hands who had been forced to lay down the earthworks around Atlanta, perpetuating the system responsible for their suffering? But in spite of herself, she did love Tara, and she did love Atlanta, and Savannah, and the rest of the South could go to hell in a hand-basket for all it mattered to her. Just as long as she had someone to look out for.

A thick quilt was laid across Mammy's lap, and she held a cane in her right hand. Flanked by all these white folks waiting on her for once, with everyone staring at her, should have made her happy. But instead it made her feel self-conscious and useless.

Finally the train pulled up at the station, hailed by a cloud of smoke that made Mammy cough. They heard the muffled cry, "All aboard!". Rhett and Melanie got in line and helped her walk up to the door, but the conductor held up his hand.

"No niggers in the main passenger car," he said harshly.

"She's accompanying these children to their mother's home," Melanie informed him.

"The company isn't going to like it," said the conductor. "The other passengers aren't going to like it. We're going to get complaints. I can't let you do it."

"I don't give a damn what people say, whether you get complaints or how the company feels about it," Rhett replied. "She is a paying customer and you are going to let her on because I said so. You're making a big mistake if you refuse our perfectly good money."

"If they were adults, it'd be different," said the conductor, looking at the children. "Folks don't like the idea of a nigger being in charge of little white children if there's no parents around. So unless one of you is willing to shell out for another ticket, I'm afraid she's going to have to get in the back. We don't take kindly to no Scallawag ideas about whites and darkies sharing railroad cars. Something tells me you're one of them."

"Now listen here, my good fellow," Rhett began, but Mammy interrupted him.

"Mist' Rhett, it's awright. Ah doan want nobody fightin' mah battles fo' me." She said this because she knew it would pacify the conductor, and it was effective.

Rhett scowled, staring at the conductor with a look of pure contempt. Even without his uncouth manner of speech, Rhett could tell he was low-class because he clearly didn't trust niggers. Typical white trash attitudes. He'd never had a mammy; his family had probably never even had a slave. So of course he didn't know the feelings of respect and affection that built up between a child and the house darkies who cared for him.

"I don't have time for this," said the conductor impatiently. "We're already behind schedule and we've got to go. You're holding up other folks. I'm only following the rules, sir. Either get to the back right now, or don't get on at all."

"Let my mammy get on the train!" Wade demanded suddenly.

The conductor was shocked into silence. He could see that he was beaten. He looked back into the car at the angry glares of the passengers, then at his stopwatch, then back at Rhett, Melanie, Wade and Mammy.

"You two sure are one queer couple," he said to Rhett and Melanie, squinting his eyes.

"Oh, we're not a couple," said Rhett and Melanie at the same time.

The conductor looked confused, but shrugged and relented. "Go to the very back," he told Mammy as she squeezed past him and he punched her ticket. "And don't make a peep."

"Thank you, Massa' Wade," Mammy whispered, smiling. A beam of hope was taking flight inside her; Wade, Ella and Bonnie were of a new generation of Southerners who had no memory of slavery. She hoped that Wade and Beau would be elected to office one day, and that maybe- just maybe- she'd be able to vote for them.

The conductor blew his whistle and waved the "All clear" signal. Rhett and Melanie waved as the train left the station, Melanie still blushing in embarrassment that the conductor had thought that Rhett was her husband.

Mammy settled in a seat by the window and smiled to herself as she watched the scenery passing by. There they were, the four of them, in the train car, all needing each other and taking care of each other. And before the sun set, they would be home again, at Tara.


End file.
